


if you let me, here's what i'll do

by ThisJoyAndI



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-05
Updated: 2015-03-05
Packaged: 2018-03-16 11:05:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3485888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThisJoyAndI/pseuds/ThisJoyAndI
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(i'll take care of you)<br/>In the last twenty four hours Raven has discovered her boyfriend has been cheating on her, has broken up with him, consumed way too much alcohol and slept with her closest male friend. And now she's at breakfast with a man she met mere moments ago. This is definitely not how she saw her weekend going. 'Really, who asks someone out to breakfast minutes after meeting them and doesn't expect it to be highly awkward? Only an idiot would, and Wick might be a lot of things, like an avid pancake eater, but he doesn't appear to be an idiot.'</p>
            </blockquote>





	if you let me, here's what i'll do

**Author's Note:**

> Modern AU, based on the prompt 'We met each other on a Sunday morning, both doing our walk of shame'.

Bellamy's face is turned away from her, his breathing steady and directed into his pillow, when she leaves his bed, and that makes her feel slightly better about it all. She can't bare to face him, not right now – maybe not ever, she thinks sadly. The white sheet is draped lightly over his hips, revealing an expanse of olive skin she notes bears scratches presumably from her fingernails. Between his shoulder blades is the brown mole he has ever since childhood, along with numerous other freckles he's collected over the years, ones that match those splattered across his nose and cheeks.

If it were anyone else she would shaken him awake and demand breakfast before conceding to his pleas to come back to bed, delighting in his attention.

But it's _Bellamy_ , so she clicks her discarded prosthesis back into place, pulls on her jeans, and leaves the bedroom silently, cursing herself and her stupid, stupid choices.

This never should have occurred, but it has, and she'll have to live with it – god knows she's lived through worse, she thinks wryly. She's known Bellamy since birth, has been friends with Octavia since the youngest Blake sibling was born, red and wrinkled and terribly ugly, and Raven has never seen him in a sexual light before last night. Sure, the man's attractive, but when you grow up alongside someone and have memories of them throwing mud-pies at you in the rain and laughing when you fell over, you tend to see them more as a brother than anything else, especially when you're in sore need of actually functioning family members.

She now knows it takes exactly five tequila slammers and four vodka shots for her opinion on that to radically alter, so that's something at least.

What else is a girl supposed to do when she discovers her long-time boyfriend (of five freaking years?!) has been cheating on her for one of those seemingly blissful years with a girl Octavia often compliments and raves on about – beautiful, intelligent, artistic Clarke Griffin who has been so apologetic about the whole thing (which seriously, has only made it worse). There's been no place for Raven to direct her rage, no possibility of hating Clarke for a mistake purely and utterly Finn's fault, and so last night she turned to alcohol, hoping to drink just enough to forget she'd sworn never to turn to alcohol to solve her problems like her mother had.

Drinking has lead her here, sneaking out of one of her best friend's apartments at the break of dawn, hoping this wouldn't change anything. She knows the sex was great, her skin still tingles from the memory, but she feels nothing but friendly affection for Bellamy, and that makes her decision all the worse. Christ, why couldn't she just go out to a bar and pick up a random stranger? She's entitled to a rebound after all, and mindless sex would have been far better than sleeping with Bellamy.

She's managed to wrestle her hair into a ponytail and slipped on her shirt when she clicks Bellamy's apartment door closed behind her, leaning against it and inhaling deeply, eyes squeezed tightly hurt as she attempts to convince herself nothing has changed – she's failing _pretty_ badly.

Raven inhales deeply a few times, breathing out through her mouth in an attempt to calm her racing heartbeat, before pushing off from the door and making her way down the hallway. Her leg aches, and she's certain she didn't put in her prosthesis properly in her haste to escape the apartment before Bellamy woke. And there's the lingering pain that generally accompanies what she fuzzily remembers to be a particularly energetic bout of sex...especially when her and Finn haven't made love in months – a notion she now is aware occurred only because he'd been getting it somewhere else.

And doesn't she feel like an idiot for trusting him all these months, for believing wholeheartedly in the lies he fed her as consistently as he would a newborn baby, for making excuses to their group of friends when he had 'late work meetings' and 'dinners he couldn't get out of', things she now knows were code for 'seeing Clarke', 'sleeping over Clarke's', and 'pretending like I don't have a longtime girlfriend waiting for me to come home'. He's definitely taken the top spot on her mental list of assholes, one that has been occupied for years by some frat boy who'd sneered one night at a bar that no one would ever find her attractive, would ever want to sleep with her, not with that disgusting fake leg of hers.

Sneered that delightfully charming phrase at her, as if she could magically alter her prosthesis into real flesh and blood...as if she could turn back time and stop the other driver from drinking before hopping into his truck – just for the chance to be blessed with this asshole's presence in bed.

All she wants is to go home, switch her phone off, order some greasy pizza and curl up in bed, sleeping off the pain behind her temples. Everything will be normal tomorrow, she'll wake up and go to work, spend her day underneath a car and definitely not be worrying that Bellamy and her will never be friends again. She reaches into her back pocket at the thought, switching her phone off.

And then promptly collides with what appears to be a very firm chest, her face pressed against its pectorals.

She could almost laugh at the thought – she's been broken up with Finn for less than twenty four hours and in that time she's slept with her closest male friend and now quite literally run into what appears to be another attractive male – but she stifles the urge, stepping back away from the man, thankful her complexion hides any traces of blushing...not that's she blushing, because she's not.

“Sorry about that,” the man says, raspy voice instantaneously causing a shiver to run up her spine. He has a moustache, wisps of blond hair resting above his upper lip, and she has to wonder what it would be like to kiss him.

She's never kissed a man with a moustache before. In fact, before last night, her list of sexual partners had been limited to Finn. Finn was her first kiss, her first time, her first everything. She'd thought they'd end up married, high-school sweethearts and all that, have a couple of kids and buy a house in the suburbs, but god has she been proven wrong.

Apparently he hadn't been as satisfied with their relationship as she had. She would have done anything to make him happy, would have done anything to improve their relationship if he'd only just shared his thoughts with her...and she would have been a fool to do so. She knows that now, and while she despises him for what he's done to her, deep down, she's thankful it happened now rather than later.

“It's alright,” she replies, stretching her hands up to tighten her ponytail. The action reveals a sliver of her stomach, toned and tan, and she arches an eyebrow at the man, his eyes quickly darting away from her torso.

There's an awkward silence for a few seconds, and she contemplates pushing her way past him and leaving the apartment building before (god forbid) Bellamy comes after her, until he speaks, stepping closer to her. “Do you wanna go get some breakfast with me?” the man asks, running a hand through his blond hair.

Laughter swells in her chest, but she pushes it down, staying silent as she looks straight at the man in front of her. This whole situation is utterly ridiculous, one that Octavia will adore hearing about - that is, if she ever gets the courage to tell her about everything.

She's just slipped out of Bellamy's apartment without so much as a second thought or a polite goodbye, and the man in front of her still bares mark from last night on his neck....and he wants to go and get breakfast with her. Really, she should scoff at him, refuse and walk away, hole up in her apartment and reject Bellamy's calls as planned – but she's starving, and the man in front of her is stupidly attractive, all broad shoulders and muscles she can see clearly through the thin fabric of his shirt.

So she inhales sharply before shrugging. “Why not?”

\---

The man's name is Wick, just Wick, he tells her, digging into his second plate of pancakes. She's nursing a cup of coffee, two sugars and a dash of milk, watching him eat with obvious amusement, and a hint of confusion. She's never been attracted to broad shoulders, big muscles, cocky guys before, which is probably a positive side effect of having to work alongside them everyday at work. Finn is only a little taller than her, his body slender, the stereotypical starving artist. He wears his hair long, cutting it only when necessary, his eyes big and brown in his pale face.

And Bellamy...well that will never happen again, so it doesn't really matter. Alcohol always makes her do stupid things – but the stupidest definitely has to be sleeping with Bellamy and then going to get breakfast with this man, this _Wick_.

_What sort of a name is Wick anyway_ , she thinks, rolling her eyes as he practically inhales another syrup drenched pancake.

The waitress comes to refill her coffee, shooting her a tender smile as she eyes both her and Wick, seated across from each other in one of those tacky red booths every diner sports as part of the décor. Raven doesn't have the heart to correct her obvious assumption that they're together, not after everything she's just been through. Let her think they're a couple, out to breakfast on a Sunday morning...although if her boyfriend ever brought her to a diner as tacky as this, barely grunted at her and then scarfed down plate after plate of pancakes, well, they probably wouldn't be together for very long. What the waitress assumes is better than the reality of her broken heart and drunken mistakes anyway.

Wick finishes yet another pancake, setting down his cutlery and taking a sip (a gulp, actually) from his own coffee. She wonders if he ever gets food caught in his moustache, ever goes a whole day without realising that he's still carrying around crumbs from his morning meal. The thought amuses her, and she laughs softly without realising, the sound loud in the silence that has settled over them.

He looks at her, draining his coffee before speaking, “Glad I'm amusing you.”

Her retort is quick and quite snarky (which, really, should be expected from a hungover, cheated-on, friendship ruiner).“Well you aren't doing much else,” she spits out. “In fact, I think you only invited me to breakfast so the waitress didn't think you were dating the pancakes.”

To her complete and utter surprise, Wick grins at her words, chortling with amusement.

It's a nice change of pace, she forces herself to admit. Finn has never been a fan of her sarcasm, and she's often found herself changing her personality, if only slightly, to better suit him and his crowd of artistic friends. To be fair, she adores Jasper and Monty, has always found them to resemble her favourite childhood cartoon duos, and takes delight in their wacky stories – which are always made funnier by the consumption of quite a few bottles of Monty's home-made liquor. But she has never adored the Raven she became around Finn. Apparently neither did he, seeing as Octavia's told her Clarke is the sweetest, nicest girl you could come across, having literally paid for Octavia's apartment to be fumigated because she couldn't afford it herself. She can pretend to be nice all she wanted, but Finn will always see through her, and he'll always want more, girls like Clarke who are sweet and selfless to the core (probably because they hadn't been raised by a drunk, but hey).

That isn't the type of relationship she wants, or deserves.

Raven Reyes is a sarcastic, wise-cracking, all around bitch when she wants to be - and she loves being that way. She deserves someone who loves her as she is, someone who doesn't long to change her. 

She's just insulted the man sitting across her, a man who quite clearly has the signs of a vigorous night, a hickey on his neck and a red lipstick mark on his collar, implying that he's incapable of dating anything else but food. Anyone else would have been pissed, and rightly so, but he's smiling, so widely she can see every hair of his moustache, spread thinly across his upper lip. It all causes her throat to tighten, and she forces herself to swallow the lump that has settled within it with another sip of coffee.

Wick's grin begins to fade, finally, and he pushes away his plate – a miraculous feat within itself, surely! - asking, “So, Raven, what do you do?”

This, this she can handle. This is all stereotypical first introduction stuff, and she's fully prepared for the reaction she has gotten time after time after telling people her occupation. First they look her up and down, and if it's a formal event eye her outfit and makeup more closely, before incredulously asking, “Really?”

She doesn't stop to think that Wick's reaction might be somewhat different, seeing as he's just combated her snarkiness with laughter. She really should have. That might have made things less awkward – but really, who asks someone out to breakfast minutes after meeting them and doesn't expect it to be highly awkward? Only an idiot would, and Wick might be a lot of things, like an avid pancaker eater, but he doesn't appear to be an idiot.

“I'm a mechanic,” she says, hands curled around the warmth of her cup. When Wick merely blinks at her, silent for probably the first time since she's met him, she arches an eyebrow seamlessly, resisting the urge to scoff. “I work on cars,” she emphasises, completely unsure just when approval from a total stranger became so important to her, judging from the queasiness in her stomach – to be completely fair, it's probably 45% residual alcohol from last night and 55% queasiness stemming from a desire to be approved of.

“I know what a mechanic does,” Wick laughs out, shaking his head lightly at her. “I was just thinking, now I know where I've seen you before. When I saw you this morning, all I knew is that you looked so familiar, and now I know why.” He takes a sip of his coffee, deliberately drawing out his explanation, an action to which she narrows her eyes at.

“I work for an engineering firm,” Wick elaborates. A more physical type of engineer, she thinks, eyes drawn to the way the muscles in his arm move as he places his elbows on the table and laces his fingers together. There's nothing wrong with that – she would rather be under a car, sorting out its problems, than stuck in an office somewhere scribbling down mechanical formulas and solutions. Her mother always told her that there was nothing at all wrong with a little bit of hard work, and she has to admit, it's one of the best pieces of advice she's ever gotten, even if it did come from a drunk.

“One of our trucks was broken and because I was late in I was nominated to take to the mechanics to get it fixed – which I didn't mind, because then I could get a coffee and dawdle back without anyone being any wiser.” Wick shrugs, taking another sip from his coffee. “When I arrived at the mechanics, I saw you. I honestly thought you were a guy at first, you were underneath a car and all I saw were your boots.” Wick grins at her, and it definitely has to be alcohol that causes her chest to tighten, _definitely_. “But you weren't a guy, you were you, and you must have been in a particular bad mood that day, because none of my jokes worked on you, but I liked you all the more for it. I've never met a girl quite like you, so when I saw you the morning I thought screw it and asked you out to breakfast.”

“After slipping out of another girl's apartment,” she snaps back, trying desperately to ignore the lump that has settled in her stomach at Wick's words. Try as he might, Finn had never understood her decision to become a mechanic. He never understood that she got the same sense of fulfilment fixing a car as he did putting paint to paper and creating something beautiful.

A look settles over Wick's countenance that she can only describe as remorseful, and she feels terrible for causing it. He should feel no remorse for whatever he did last night, especially when they've only just met. He's a grown man, and he has every right to exercise his free will as he pleases.

“I'm sorry,” she murmurs, placing a hand on her thigh in an attempt to steady herself. "I have no right whatsoever to judge." 

Wick shrugs, draining his coffee. “No big. It's not like I'm particularly proud of what happened last night anyway.”

“That's makes two of us,” she tells him, all too aware of the phone resting beside her, a phone which has probably received numerous missed calls from Bellamy and texts from Octavia by now, a phone she switched off because she's too afraid she screwed up yet another relationship in her life to actually deal with what has occurred. Instead, she's at breakfast with a man she hardly knows, a man who makes her feel more supported than Finn ever had, a man who won't stop looking at her, his eyes alight with something she cannot name.

He laughs softly, raising his empty cup. She raises hers, and he clinks them together, grinning. “To one night stands we shall forever regret,” he says, probably a bit too loudly in such an empty diner.

She doesn't care, and for the first time this morning a smile spreads across her lips. The last twenty four hours have been complete and utter crap, but if she hadn't lived them, she wouldn't be sitting here now, across from Wick (who is stuffing another pancake into his mouth with wild abandon), more aware of her self-worth than she has been in months.

So she withdraws her hand from her thigh, and stretches it across the table to clasp one of Wick's. “To agreeing to go to breakfast with a complete stranger,” she tells him, and she thinks he's almost as pleased by that as he has been by his plates of pancakes.

–--

She and Bellamy, months after a few bouts of awkwardness that lasted as long as Octavia's patience, the younger Blake screaming at them to stop being idiots and just be friends again already, stand out the front of the diner, shivering in the winter breeze. What kind of idiot gets up at seven am to go to breakfast on a Sunday anyway, she thinks, stuffing her hands into her coat pockets. Bellamy shivers beside her, scarf wound tightly around his neck.

“Can't we just wait for them inside?” he questions, a hint of desperation in his voice. That has to be the most brilliant idea she's heard this morning, but she promised to wait for them outside, and Raven Reyes never breaks her promises. So she shakes her head no, an action Bellamy groans at, and continues to shiver, wishing for nothing more than a cup of coffee to warm her hands. It's freaking seven am, she should still be snuggled up in bed with her electric blanket on, dozing the morning away until she finally tears herself out of bed to eat something.

The things she does for love, she thinks, eyeing the street with growing annoyance.

Two figures appear on the other side of the street just as she is about to concede defeat to the weather and drag Bellamy inside the diner, waving wildly. She narrows her eyes at them, huffing out small puffs of air as she waits for them to cross the road, beanies stuffed over two heads that boast identical shades of hair.

“Finally,” Bellamy whines when they finally manage to cross the road and walk over to them, both grinning. “We've been freezing our asses off waiting for you guys, you'd said you'd only be a few minutes.”

“The line was long,” Clarke offers, tucking her mitten covered hand in Bellamy's. Wick nods in agreement, clapping his hands together in an attempt to warm them up. Raven says nothing, merely gestures towards the door, hands curled up tightly in her pockets. Bellamy and Clarke clamber up the stairs hand in hand, Clarke's blonde locks tumbling down her back underneath her beanie. Wick stops her before she can follow them, pulling her so close to him she can see tiny flakes of snow trapped in his moustache. She tugs a hand out of a pocket, brushing off the white dusting, fingers gentle against his lips.

Breakfast with Bellamy and Clarke might be one of the weirdest things she'll do all year, seeing as she slept with Bellamy and Clarke had been the other girlfriend she never knew Finn had, but Wick and Bellamy had hit it off the first time they met, and when Octavia had introduced Clarke to Bellamy, all bets were off. Sure, there's still residual tension between them all, especially between her and Clarke, but she'd never deny Bellamy his happiness, and Clarke's become of the closest friends she has, her kindness and generosity something Raven cherishes. They're both careful never to mention Finn, lest they dredge up their past issues and destroy a friendship they value highly.

And Wick..well who knew a guy she ran into whilst escaping Bellamy's apartment would ever become so important to her. They've been dating for six months now, and she's never been happier, really. Wick supports her in every way she could ever imagine, and she finally knows what true partnership feels like in a relationship, a notion she had never known was missing before Wick came along. Sure, he annoys her in more ways than one, and he's quite fond of piling dirty dishes up in the sink and leaving them there for her to deal with, but he's Wick, and even after such a short time together, she can't imagine waking up in the morning and not seeing his face.

Wick presses a tender kiss to her fingertips, before lacing their fingers together, their hands dangling in the chilly breeze. “C'mon Reyes,” he says softly. “Let's go get some breakfast." He shoots her a sideways grin, pushing the door open.  "I'll even let you have the pancakes.”

Such an offer is the highest honour Kyle Wick could ever bestow, so she replies, “We'll share.”

**Author's Note:**

> RAVEN AND WICK ARE CANON AND EVERYTHING IS GLORIOUS! 
> 
> (Except for the whole trapped in Mt. Weather, getting tortured, possible chance of dying thing - but we don't talk about that). 
> 
> P.S. I know his name is Kyle...I just love calling him Wick idk


End file.
